


call girl

by shuantics



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, F/F, Falling In Love, Fingering, I'm Going to Hell, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, i think, wheein is so gay lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8957236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuantics/pseuds/shuantics
Summary: Wheein swears falling in love with Hyejin was an accident.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for irene, u little shit <3  
> so i'll be in church asking for forgiveness if anyone needs me ^^

Yongsun was right - New York City really was the land of opportunity.

In popular perception, it could be the land that offers much work and many careers, like Wheein had thought originally when her confirmation letter slipped through her door from the _Cosmopolitan_ office there. It could also be the land that offers love, her friend, Yongsun, having found who she describes as the love of her life along the crowded streets of the city that never sleeps.

Neither of those opportunes are what springs to Wheein's mind, not when she's being pushed back into her mattress, mysterious girl between her legs making her feel all kinds of sinful good.

But for the otherwise anti-social, introverted, awkward and clumsy Wheein, this seems a pretty good opportunity (even if she's paying for it).

Wheein would like to take the time to slow down, recall and re-think herself and how she got into the situation, but with this girl (Hwain...Hwahyun...she couldn't even bring herself to remember her name) bearing her tongue and practically _assaulting_ her womanhood, it's hard to even comprehend what day is - she's that good. (Or so Wheein assumes, she doesn't know how 'good' she is on the hooker scale, or even the levels of 'good' said hooker scale describes).

Nonetheless, she tries her best and attempts dismiss her worries of: "Am I doing this right?; "What the hell am I even doing?"; "Can her tongue reach all the way in?"

A jolt is sent soaring across her body, lewd moan pulled from her clumsily and her third question is answered: Yes it bloody well can.

Now, if she could answer the other two, that'd be fantastic, but later, she concludes, because _holy fuck what is she doing down there?_

Wheein is sure she's never experienced such pure, unadulterated pleasure in her life, these kitten licks this girl was laying against her slit while her relatively blunt nails dig crescents into her thighs (that Wheein more than shamefully enjoyed). It was sure adrenaline pumping through her veins, sterling excitement bubbling across every inch of her skin, body hot and flustered as this girl made some ungodly sounds that just _drip_ with sex. 

Muffled moans, groans, vulgar sips and pants - it's official, Wheein is losing her damn mind over how much she loves this.

In an odd burst of guilt, though, Wheein thinks of home. How ashamed her mother will be if she ever knew that her prized, church-going, star daughter was spending her hard-earned money on a cheap prostitute to perform these foreign, ignomic acts on her. God, her grandmother will be turning in her grave if word ever got around that the family name of Jung was being spat on and rolled in the dirt as the youngest member indulges herself in such an indignant way.

Wheein's close to asking her to stop, but she does this...this  _thing_ (Wheein has no idea how to label it) where she adds two of her delicate fingers by her tongue, and suddenly she forgets every ounce of shame she's felt in twenty-one years of living.

 

Wheein doesn't remember her being _this_ cold when she arrived, though.

Sure, the girl was nippy, frosty at most when she sauntered into Wheein's apartment, dressed scantily in tight clothes that hugged her body in all the right places, stellar makeup and a face that could woo a whole army at once. She remembers a hint of insolence, her looking the place, and Wheein, up and down, sizing up the client (Wheein shivers at that word, it sounding so professional, so suave and is  _such_ a turn on) before smoothly asking:

"First time?"

Her stare was intense, Wheein could feel her cheeks hotten and her heat wetten under her eyes alone. Meekly, she nodded.

"With a girl or with a hooker in general?"

"Uh," Wheein hummed, her hand scratching her neck. She was intimidated, to say the least, on edge, _scared._ It was like she was going to eat her - chew her up and spit her out. Wheein wasn't familiar with the social etiquette of meeting a prostitute, and this girl wasn't making it much easier. "Yeah, both."

She smiled, slanted and cocky. In any other situation, Wheein would probably bite back, some snarky remark hidden by a mask of jest to build her own stance, but with her it was different. She felt so small, so inferior in the midst of such a confident, powerful lady. "I guessed. You're trembling like a little mouse."

Wheein didn't care much for the disrespect. This girl wore arrogance like vintage fashion, rocked it and looked _insanely_ sexy while at it.

Now, however, the temperature has dropped to at least below freezing.

As Wheein digs out her purse, she stands against the doorframe with the most bored expression written over her features. "A hundred, right?"

She intones her confirmation, arms folded and stifling a yawn as Wheein hands her her bills. "Thanks, sweet." Everything she says drowns in condescending, like Wheein was so underneath her she had to look down to talk. "If you feel you're up for another good time, shoot me a call."

Wheein's left alone after that, trying her darndest hardest to remember, but she's alone and with no recollection of that girl's name.

 

Yongsun takes her out after one whole, successful month working as a writer in the big apple. Her girlfriend tags along, happily supplying the pair with plenty of drinks and snacks as the night rolls on. Though elated with the commercial response and praise of her work, the amount's been weighing her down, adding age and no doubt wrinkles. She's thankful for the company working as a distraction for one, blissful evening, no stress of work and no prostitute clouding her thoughts.

(Wheein's contrited to admit, yes, the girl has been playing on her mind for many a days now, still nameless but her lips go burned into Wheein's memory.)

Nonetheless, the minute Wheein returns to her take-out box littered apartment miles deep in the city, she again finds herself miles deep in the thought of her too.

Her fingers fiddle with the buttons on her landline, pulling the rubber out the socket and pushing it back in again. Why she's hesitating she's not sure. It's not like she's struggling to pay for it - even she's shocked at the going rate for working at one of the US's biggest magazine corporations. Maybe the personal stigma - could her conscience handle thoughts of her disapproving family or the inevitable disownment of her if they were to ever know? 

Then again, they're in Korea, 7,000 miles away, she's in New York, the land of opportunity - they'll never, ever know unless she tells them, and God forbid she ever will.

Inexorably, Wheein's hands dig around her work bag, the card she dismissed days ago sitting crumpled at the bottom before they turn to her phone, numbers punched in surely as excitement swells in her once more.

"I knew mousey would call again." She grins as Wheein opens the apartment door. She steps in uninvited, but Wheein wasn't in the mind to stop her, dropping her fake leather purse on the couch and pressing herself against the client, trapping her against the door as Wheein slowly sinks into submission. She wasn't cold now, and Wheein found the confusion troubling her for the second it took Wheein to capture her lips in messy, lipstick slicken kiss before melting completely. 

"Justー" Wheein gasps, her hands unsure on where to hold as the the latter's mouth layers wet kisses down her neck, "just remind me of yーyour name again?"

She smiles, the hint of that cocky smirk in the underlie. "Just call me Hwasa, sweet." She digs back in, pushing Wheein's fragile waist into her door and bearing her teeth against the smooth, unblemished skin.

Wheein moans and repeats: "Hwasa..." loving the way it rolls off her tongue. "Hwasa..."

"Keep saying it, baby," Hwasa hums, her hands creeping around to teasingly grip Wheein's ass. "It sounds nice when you say it." She moves up, her fingers fiddling with the zip on the back of Wheein's simple pink dress she wore out, pulling it down and bracing her hands against her bare back.

(Wheein lost count of how many times she said that name.)

 Sprawled against Wheein's clean bed sheets, Hwasa leaves a long trail of dark red lipstick prints down the former's torso and a stain on her pure white panties (she wishes she wore another colour, something darker, like a black which she's sure would come across as much sexier) as she bears them with her teeth, tugging them down and chuckling as Wheein shivers from the sudden air against her womanhood. 

"Come here, mousey," she whispers, her arms hooking under Wheein's legs to push them apart before delving her tongue in just like the last time. 

Wheein's more accepting - less caring, if you will - and in turn, she's certain the mindset adds so much more pleasure to the ordeal. Too much, maybe, because the pleasure comes soaring from below, bubbling through her stomach, swelling her chest into her throat where it bursts in the form of drawn, gaspy moan as her hand comes down to gently push Hwasa's head in. Her other hand grips the thin duvet underneath her, tightening when Hwasa hums, vibrations echoing through her sheath and shaking her body. She groans, followed by an illicit string of more as Hwasa licks, laps and fucks her with her tongue. She loses her mind when her fingers trace along her inner thigh, so gentle she could barely feel it, but so electrifying that Wheein's hips buck in pure need for more feeling.

If she remembers, Hwasa is so much more gentle than the last time with excelling results. There's no rough gripping, nails digging, less rushed, and Wheein dares say Hwasa's enjoying it as much as she is.

Wheein goes to stand after she finishes (and catches her breath) but Hwasa smiles, sitting on the end of the bed while clasping on her heels, ushering for her to stay lying

"The, uh, payment is on the dresses..." she says, bunching the blanket to cover herself. "IーI can show you out ifー"

"It's alright, mousey," Hwasa replies, checking her appearance in the mirror before reaching for the stack of bills on the wood. She counts them quickly, folding them and pocketing them in her purse.Yes, she's far from cold as she again smiles at Wheein and the latter could swear that, earlier, she also seemed eager,  _happy_ to be there again (but, then again, her mind was dulled by alcohol and Wheein simply blames that for incomprehension).

"Thーthanks..." She clears her throat as Hwasa turns to the door, "...for... _it_ , I guess..."

Hwasa says nothing but looks over her shoulder and winks, and Wheein's left lying alone in her lonely apartment again with an odd sense of warm flooding over her body.

 

The third time, Wheein tries something different.

As Hwasa tugs down her jeans to get to work, she stops her, rolling over so the former's back was against her bed, Wheein sitting on her hips. 

Hwasa smirks when Wheein asks: "Can I?" replying simply with:

"Be my guest, mousey."

At that point, Wheein realizes she, again, has no idea what she's doing. She didn't plan this far - she simply thought of taking lead on Hwasa before getting too excited to think more, and since she was at the office, she could hardly take care of herself there. She holds Hwasa's wrists, taking her quirked eyebrow as a good sign, and leans down, kissing her through her waxy layer of black lipstick. 

"You going to tie me up, mousey?"

Wheein's breath gets caught as she thinks about it for a second - the idea of Hwasa bound up to her bidding doing more than raising goosebumps. "Do you want me to?"

"I want everything from you."

Wheein could have orgasmed right there and then, bit bites her lip, feeling the wetness sink through her. She quickly climbs off Hwasa, scurrying to her wardrobe and searching for something to tie her wrists together with. 

"A tie will do, if you have one," Hwasa comments, and Wheein sure did, grabbing the plain, thin, black tie that matches with her white blouse. (She's so excited, she doesn't even stop to think how much she hates that Hwasa has most likely done this before, many, many times - that comes later). 

With Hwasa bound to her bedpost by her hands, Wheein contemplates how the hell she's going to scratch up to Hwasa in making her feel good while she slips her out of her skin-tight, sparkly party dress. She pulls down her black, lacy panties (Wheein almost drools) and hesitates, trying to remember what Hwasa's done and how he can equate it. 

To reiterate: Wheein's way in over her head.

It works, though (she hopes, if not Hwasa should switch her career to acting), for Hwasa's moaning like a lost wanton, her toes curling as two of Wheein's fingers work in and out, getting slicked in her wetness. Remembering as much as she can from her self-biology lesson (which was just her, hiding under her covers googling how to pleasure women) and searches until her finger pads brush against the sweet spot. Hwasa's back curves and her face scrunches in, what Wheein hopes is pleasure.

"Again, mousey," she husks, her eyes opening into slits to glare lustfully at Wheein. "There again, please."

Wheein's shocked, but complies, rubbing her digits against that spot again as Hwasa moans how good that is. Christ, Wheein _must_ be dreaming. Hwasa, unattainable sex goddess is asking _her_ for more pleasure. It's unheard of, but Wheein would be lying if she said it didn't inflate her ego in just the slightest. 

"You're better than I thought, you'd be, mousey," Hwasa comments after Wheein unties her hands. Her skin glistens slightly, perspiration covering her body in a thin sheet, and Wheein offers her a water bottle. "I'm surprised."

Wheein blushes, turning away to fetch her purse from her work bag. She pulls $100 out and sets it on the bedside cabinet for Hwasa to take when she's ready but is stopped, Hwasa's hand calmly over hers. "

"I'll take $75 if you buy all my drinks on Saturday."

"Saturday?" Wheein frowns.

"I want to take you out, mousey."

Wheein's parts her lips to speak, breathing out when she's taken back. "WーWhy?"

"How long have you been in New York?"

"Just over two months..."

Hwasa grins, swinging her legs out of the bed and searching around for her shoes. "Do you know your way around?"

Wheein shakes her head because it was partially true. The only routes she knew in the city were from her apartment, to Yongsung's, to work and to the pizza parlor. 

"Good," Hwasa states, slipping herself back into her dress and zipping it up, "then I'll show you." She scoops the money into her grip, sorting out $75 and placing the remaining $25 back. "Don't forget. I'll pick you up at 7."

 

Wheein wakes up way past midday on Sunday morning, the scent of Hwasa's perfume still lingering in the air and smudges of her make-up across the pillows. Her head throbs the minute she tries to stand, the light pouring in from the window stinging inexplicably, and the loud buzzing echoing off the walls wasn't doing much to help. With just a shirt on, Wheein stumbles across her apartment, pressing her body against the wall while covering her eyes as she pushes the silver button on the intercom.

"Hello..."

"Wheein-ah," Yongsun whines, and Wheein can tell she's pouting, "you missed our coffee date!"

Wheein groans and presses to reply. "Sorry, unnie," she grumbles, "I forgot. Come on up."

(Wheein's slightly disappointed to not see the pair of glittery heels that she distinctly remembers Hwasa wearing anywhere in the apartment, but brushes it off - why would she stay anyway...)

Yongsun bombards Wheein with all sorts of questions as she bursts in, following her around like a nagging puppy. 

"Where were you? Have you just woken up? Are you hungover? Why did you go out drinking without me? It's dangerous on your own you know. Who's Hwasa?"

Wheein stops groaning and picks her head up from her hands, frowning. 

Yongsun stands with a post-it note in her fingers, pointing at the lone, polystyrene cup of coffee on the side. 

"' _A present for buying so many last night (who knew mousey could drink so much?). I used your shower, hope you don't mind (you're out of strawberry shampoo, sorry),_ '" she reads. "Signed Hwasa... with a lipstick stain..."

Wheein examines the note, then grips the warm coffee. "Oh," she mutters, opening the lid with steam pouring out. Black, just how she likes it.

"Who's Hwasa?" Yongsun repeats, and Wheein goes red in the face. "And who's _mousey?_ " Honestly, she's been meaning to tell her friend about her...other friend, but never really found a good time (because when _is_ a good time to let your friends know you have an odd obsession with a certain prostitute?).

"Uh...a friend," she replies. "And a friend..."

"They took took you drinking?"

Wheein nods, sipping the drink and scowling as her head pulsates furiously. "Do you have any painkillers on you?" She asks, thankful for the understandable segway.

"No, but you do." Yongsun points to the cupboard under the sink.

Wheein frowns and throws the under sink doors open, indeed being met with a basket of household medications, bandages, and creams. "Howー" she looks to Yongsun, then back to the basket in disarray. "How did youー"

 

"Iー" Wheein breathes deeply, her back sticking to her bed as she pants, Hwasa lying next to her with the equal amount of exhaustion, "ーhave a request."

Hwasa turns her head and cocks an eyebrow. "You want me to buy you more strawberry shampoo?"

Wheein giggles and shakes her head. "I need a date for Friday."

"What's happening Friday?"

"I'm going to dinner and it'll be shameful if I go alone," Wheein admits. "I'll pay you extra if we have sex after."

Hwasa chuckles. "Where would we be going?"

" _Per Se_ over in Columbus Circle. You know it?"

"Christ, if you can afford to eat there you can certainly buy an actual escort rather than a back alley whore like me."

Wheein sits up as she giggles again. "I'm not buying, my boss is. She's taking her best employees out and says plus-ones are welcome."

"How long have you been working there?"

"Just over five months. Why?"

"Curious." Hwasa rests her palms behind her head, the bedsheets slowly sinking over her chest and nearly exposing her breasts (Wheein tries not to stare). "Fancy dinner and sex... Not a bad combination." She thinks for a moment, a face that Wheein oddly finds uncontrollably attractive, before her lips curve into a devilish smile. "Sure," she smirks, "it could be fun."

 

Wheein's teeth clamp so hard over her bottom lip, she could draw blood. She tries to cool her red-hot body and flaming cheeks with dainty sip after sip of champagne, but nothing works. Shivers run over her body as Hwasa's hand, hidden by the cloth of the table, slowly creeps up her thigh, soft pads rubbing against her skin as it disappears under her skirt. Her leg jitters from nerves, eyes looking around the table as she drinks from her glass. No one was really paying attention to her, other than the odd glance and smile over, but still, her skin feels on fire from anxiety.

All she can think in her head is how good it feels. 

"I can't wait to have you later," Hwasa purrs in her ear (Wheein mentally denies stealing a glance down her cleavage as he leans over, or marveling at how her body curves in the perfect s-line in her skin-tight blue dress).

Wheein chokes on her drink, flinging herself into a coughing fit when she really just wants to fling herself into the sun. 

Hwasa's hand retracts, teasingly, and instead moves to pat her back as Wheein calms herself, all eyes on her. 

"Are you alright, Ms. Jung?" Ms. Promaulayko asks, concerned look over her face.  

Wheein nods, pulling the most believable smile she can manage as she feels Hwasa's palm against her thigh again. "Yes, I'll be fー"

Her sentence regresses to a squeak as Hwasa's fingers, sneakily, rub against the soaked material of her panties. She coughs to cover it up, but doubts the legitimacy of the act. "AーActually, I'm..." she yanks Hwasa's hand away, gripping the wrist as tight as her shaky hands will let her, "...going toーto get some air." She clears her throat as Ms. Promaulayko nods, returning to her conversation as Wheein pulls a smug Hwasa up, dragging her to the bathroom. 

She watches in amusement as Wheein crawls in her hands and knees to check if the stalls are vacant, before jabbing her finger at Hwasa to get in one. 

"I don't think I can wait until later either," she breathes, pressing Hwasa's frame into the cold, tile wall. She hikes her skirt up, lacy panties on show as she sinks to her knees, gripping Hwasa's _god-given_ thighs and leaving long, teasing licks up them, until she's eye level with Hwasa's heat. 

"Ooh, mousey's gotten bold..." she hums, biting her lip and looking down at Wheein, moaning when the latter presses her finger to her lips and leans in, putting pressure against the sensitive slit with her tongue through the pants. "My _God_..." she whispers, voice shaking as much as her knees as her fingers softly thread into Wheein's hair.

Gripping Hwasa's panties in her hand, Wheein tugs them down, her tongue rubbing right against the folds as Hwasa's grip tightens. She lifts her leg, heel pressing against Wheein's back throwing her head back as Wheein presses her face in further, tongue reaching in as far as it will go, pressing against the sweet spot. Hwasa's body rolls, her hips trying to match the rhythm of Wheein, shoulders flexing and relaxing against the speckless tiles. Her chest flushes, grip tightens, her body shivers and she lets out a long, breathy moan, the sound alone turning Wheein on so much.

They clean themselves up as quick as possible, putting on the best sick-facade they can to excuse themselves from the dinner, and before Wheein can even ask, she's again being pushed into the wall of her apartment, Hwasa's lips sucking a large, red mark on her neck. She squeals when Hwasa, strength coming from seemingly nowhere, picks her up, trailing her kisses down Wheein's chest to the valley of her breasts. 

When Wheein wakes again, her head hurts slightly, and can feel the bump on her lower scalp. She rolls around the warm sheets, heat radiating from her sides as her nose bumps into some softeness. Her fatigued eyes glance up, and her heart skips a beat. Hwasa lays next to her, slowly pulling herself from her slumber as well. Wheein can't stop grinning as she sheepishly buries her head into the pillow. "You stayed..."

Hwasa yawns and stretches her perfect body out. "You asked me to." She rolls to face Wheein side on, reaching a hand up to push a stray hair from the latter's face. "And I wasn't really against the idea, mousey."

Wheein smiles fondly, holding the warm palm to her cheek fondness. Happiness bubbles through her whole body like a firework of glee. She could scream, whip her window open and yell in pure ecstasy, but finds Hwasa's pretty smile enough. 

"Hyejin," she says and Wheein frowns briefly. "My name is Hyejin. Hwasa is my hooker name."

Wheein nods. "So... we're past hooker and client level?"

Hwasa ー Hyejin says nothing, but leans in pressing a soft, soft kiss to Wheein's soft, soft lips. "It was an accident," she mumbles, her breath tickling Wheein's cheek. "Falling in love with you."

Wheein smiles, moving so her arms could wrap around Hyejin's shoulders. "You know what," she giggles, "I was thinking the exact same thing."

 

**Author's Note:**

> first go at writing female smut this took me m o n t h s but i hope i did decently?  
> leave some feedback in the comments, kudos much-appreciated loves <3


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